Track Record
by XiaoDui
Summary: Not everyone has a great track record when it comes to relationships. DannyDash
1. Prologue: Danny

I watch my sleeping lover for a while, admiring the way the moonlight accentuates his features. He shifts in his dreams, as if sensing my gaze on him, and I smile to myself as I brush some of his bangs out of his eyes. Before he can fully awake, I slide out from under the covers and pad my way into the kitchen on silent feet.

It's not long before I'm standing in front of the apartment's window-wall, one hand clutching my steaming mug of coffee. My gaze rests on the Amity Park cityscape, but the cold stone buildings are not the focus of my thoughts.

Instead, I'm concentrated on my partner. I have to admit, I'm not sure what he sees in me. He could have anyone he wants, really. At times, I wonder why he's here, with me, when there are countless others who would treat him better. I know that he could leave at any time. Perhaps that's why I'm unable to sleep. I'm insecure – it's not like my past relationships have really worked out.

First was Paulina. Well, in all honesty, I'm not sure she counts. It was really more of the whole shy-male-loser-crushing-on-pretty-popular-girl deal. Admittedly, I was shallow when I was younger – I liked how pretty she was, and that was it. At least, at first – after my . . . 'accident', I kept clinging to the crush and trying for her because it was what all the other guys were doing. It was a last attempt to be normal.

When I finally realized that I wasn't normal and wouldn't ever be, Valerie came along. Her fall from popularity seemed an apt simile for my own fall (though I 'fell' from normality rather than from my post at the bottom of the social hierarchy). I felt sorry for her, and offered her a friend when she needed one; I claimed it was because I felt guilty for Cujo's ruining her dad's job, but I think it was really because I thought she would understand. Both of us had taken a fall, but she didn't get back up. That might have been what ended that one (the ghost-hunting suit from Vlad might have helped, of course), even if it took me a while to realize it.

After Valerie, I focused more on my ghost fights, which brought Sam into the light (it was hard not to, since she was at most of the fights). I'd really thought she'd be The One – after all, she was my friend before and after the 'accident'. She still liked me then, even if I wasn't normal; hell, she wasn't exactly normal either. I was floating on air after the whole Disasteroid thing, because I could claim her as mine. But then, that was before her parents started to actually approve of me (how could they not? I was great for their 'public image', and who doesn't like the savior of the world?).

That was when the truth reared its ugly head – Sam had only liked me because her parents hated me. As soon as they showed the first signs of approval, she started cancelling dates and ignoring calls. About a month after they gave 'official permission', the newspapers kept printing pictures of her locking lips with random guys (and even a few girls, for good measure) at the Skulk N Lurk. Before I even had a chance to try to work everything out and find out what was going on, she'd dumped me.

I didn't really date again until after college started (no one would blame me – all the girls at Casper only wanted a fairytale with Phantom). I already had an open mind thanks to the ghosts, and Sam's making out with other girls made me start wondering. I ignored all the girls for a while, instead examining a few boys – and learned that I wasn't as disgusted as I thought I'd be (some guys should never be seen shirtless; just trust me on this one). It took a long talk with Jazz, but I quickly accepted that I was bisexual.

That was when Kwan found me. We hadn't been close during high school, but anything can happen at college, and both of us had stuck around for Amity University. Just for the sake of a friendly face we would hang out, which turned into dating. We were pretty normal, until Jazz started ranting about her 'hot Asian boyfriend'. That conversation revealed a whole chain of lies, and I broke it off.

I somehow ended up as the confident for each victim of the whole thing. Star came crying because Tucker was cheating on her with Valerie, who was cheating on him with Mikey (yes, really – I was shocked too), who was also sleeping with Paulina who was cuddling up to Kwan, who was juggling her and the two Fenton siblings. This ended up with Star using me as a rebound. I didn't complain at first because I needed the comfort too, but she never gave it to me. She just used me – we barely lasted a month.

I set my still-not-drunk coffee down on one of the table, crossing my arms as a glimmer of light shines on the horizon. My eyes don't leave the skyline, though I cast my senses to the bedroom as my thoughts lethargically turn to my current lover.

As if sensing my senses, there's a huff and a grumble. Silence for a moment, then rustling, and the creak of the door opening. Footsteps, and two arms wrap around my waist.

I smile, closing my eyes as his voice vibrates through his chest against my back and he groans. "Geeze, Fenton! It's five in the freakin' morning."

I can't help but chuckle. "Still with the names, Dash?"

He grumbles some more, but his grip on my waist and hips tightens. "Seriously, Danny. Why are you up at five in the freakin' morning? What the hell are you doing?" He doesn't say what he's really asking, but I don't need him to. _What's wrong?_

My smile widens, and I open my eyes – the stars are disappearing now. "Just thinking." _I'm fine_.

He scoffs, pulling me closer yet as he rests his chin on my head. "Well, next time, put on my robe or something!" _I'm here for you_.

"What? You don't want to cuddle with a popsicle?" _I know_.

He snorts, and the tensing of his muscles is the only warning I get before I'm swept off my feet – he has one hand under my knees and the other supporting my back in a bridal carry. "You're not a popsicle." It's almost romantic, until he adds "You're an ice cube!"

I laugh, my untouched coffee forgotten as he carries me towards the promise of the comfort of a bed and a warm body curled around my own.

I may have one hell of a track record, but I've got a heaven of a future now.


	2. Chapter 1: Paulina

I hum cheerfully to myself, swaying my hips to the mental Latin beat as the doorbell rings. It's a bright Saturday morning – the sun is shining, birds are chirping in the trees, and all the adorable little squirrels are scampering along the tree branches. It's the perfect day for me to turn my current ex-boyfriend back into my boyfriend . . .

I glance around while I wait for Dash to answer the door. He's moved out of that cute apartment we used to share – this apartment complex is a lot classier, and much more stylish! It also looks more expensive. Wonder what he's been up to? Last I knew, he was still a simple football jock trying to make it in the professional leagues.

Just when I'm about to leave, the door is flung open by a tall, handsome blonde.

Oh, my.

Dash has _grown_ since we broke up. That blonde hair used to be slicked back, but now it's simply left natural. It's cropped short in a stylish cut as well, one that actually suits his face and makes him look a little bit more mature. He's lost some more baby fat, too, and his skin is a warmer tan. The muscles aren't so overly huge anymore, so he must be off the steroids. He's dressing better, too – designer jeans, as usual, but these aren't nearly as tight as he used to wear them, fitting his legs better. Instead of that annoying tight black shirt, he's in a white tank-top with a blue button-down thrown on top. It's not buttoned, and the sleeves are rolled up, but he looks _good_ in it. Bare feet, and a rag in his hand.

As well, his whole demeanor is different. He's got this light in his eyes, and the remnants of a smile on his lips. He seems to glow slightly with happiness, and he's got a more honest confident set to his shoulders. Everything about him seems brighter, happier, _complete_.

"Paulina?" He asks slowly, his voice a little bit deeper than I remember.

"Hi, Dash!" I give him my best smile. "Can I come in? You know, for a visit?"

His smile seems a little tense. ". . . um, hang on a sec." He closes the door a little bit, and I hear his voice fade as he walks away, calling for someone. Another, slightly higher voice answers in a conversation, and then he comes back and opens the door. "Sure, c'mon in."

I step inside, and it's _amazing_. All the furniture is classy but functional, and the couch looks comfortable. A flat-screen TV of course, but it's not hooked up to the cable box. The entire back wall of the living room is glass, and a few chairs and tables are set up near it.

Dash leads me into the room. "Sorry about the mess – we're just adding a few finishing touches to the place, and we're still moving in too." Sure enough, there are boxes in neat piles marring the image, but it somehow makes it seem a little more cheerful.

"We?" I ask, surprised. "You have a roommate?"

For some reason he laughs at this. "You could say that. Go ahead and sit while I get drinks, okay?"

He disappears into another room, and I catch a brief glimpse of a warm soft yellow kitchen with dark brown accents before the door swings shut. He isn't gone long, and returns moments later with a glass of water for me. He sets it down next to me (surprisingly, he even paused to put down a coaster!) and then retreats to the kitchen. When he next reappears, he's smiling and carrying a plate. There's cherries sitting in a small pile, as well as half a sandwich and a glass of water. He ambles away down a hall, and I hear a door open and close.

Voices float out – his, and the other from earlier – and there's a bit of bright laughter. Moments later, Dash returns, trailed by a slim brunet.

It's a boy, I can tell that much, but he's really very pretty. Pale skin against Dash's tan and that dark hair to his blonde makes a startling contrast. Sapphire eyes glitter above high cheekbones, framed by dark eyelashes that should belong to a girl. A slender, effeminate frame with lithe muscles makes him more wiry and lean than Dash. He's also a little shorter than my jock, though not by too much.

"Hi, Paulina." He says before sticking a cherry into his mouth – he's got the plate now. He sucks on it for a moment, grinning at the confusion on my face.

"How did you know who I am?" I ask slowly.

"Simple, I went to high school with you, too." He shrugs, and chooses another cherry as he sits down on the couch. I'm seated on the loveseat, waiting for Dash to sit next to me.

Instead, the blonde retreats to the kitchen and returns with a beer. The brunet eyes it, giving him a pointed look, and he chuckles before tipping it upside down to show it's empty.

"Just pulling your leg, Dan." Dash teases. "You know I gave up drinking."

I stare at him, startled. Dash? Give up steroids _and_ drinking?

"Well, it's not funny then." 'Dan' retorts, but he's smiling. "And haven't I told you _not_ to call me that?"

"Yeah, yeah." Again Dash leaves, and comes back with a soda. "Better?"

"Much." The brunet laughs, popping another cherry and leaning back on the couch.

I smile at Dash, inviting him to sit next to me, but instead he . . . drops onto the couch next to the brunet? There's more than enough room on the couch, but he's sitting so close to the brunet that their sides are touching.

"So, Paulina, how've you been?" Dash asks after stealing a cherry from the brunet's plate.

"Oh, not so well." I sigh, crossing my legs (and letting my miniskirt slip a little higher; Dan notices, but he doesn't seem to be approving and Dash doesn't notice at all!). "It's been rough, you know?"

Dash nods sympathetically, then turns back to Dan. "Paulina left to go become a model."

"Ah. That's a good choice for you." Dan nods as well, but it's tighter, more nervous.

"Well, no one's hiring." I shrug with one shoulder, letting the strap of my tank-top slip down my arm. I daintily pull it back up, but Dash didn't even so much as glance at the bit of bared chest I offered him.

He's acting so weird.

"So now you're back in town, huh? Gone to see Kwan or Star yet?" Dash continues to lead the awkward conversation. "I'm sure they'd love to say hi!"

"Actually, I'm back to stay. See, while I was gone . . ." I bite my lip, playing up the hurt young woman. "Dash, I . . . I never realized how much I missed you."

". . . oh." Dash says slowly. "That's what this is about."

Now I'm confused. "Huh?"

"You want me to take you back, right?"

I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand for effect and to hide my victorious smile. "Oh, Dash! Is that an offer?"

"No."

"I'll just go pack, and – wait, what?" I pause, confused. He did _not_ just say-

"No. Paulina, I'm not going to date you again."

I frown. "Why?"

"Because . . ." He glances down at Dan, who is staring back at him. ". . . I'm already in a relationship. And, as hard as you may find it to believe, I like my significant other better than you."

"You've . . . you're dating?" I'm furious – he was supposed to pine after and wait for me! _ME_!

"Yep." He grins, and he's _still looking at Dan!_ "And I'm happier than I've ever been." Dan blushes, strangely enough.

I whirl to him. "Who's the hussy? Who's the whore who took my man?"

Dan raises an eyebrow, finally turning to face me. He looks so strangely familiar . . .

"Don't take this out on Danny." Dash suddenly growls, looking eerily dangerous. Even Dan looks startled. The brunet's hand comes up, touching Dash's chest lightly.

Immediately, he pauses, and looks down to Dan. They stare at each other for a long moment, and then Dash sighs. "Paulina."

I brighten. "Yes? You want me to be your wife after all?"

"NO!" He all but roars, but quickly calms himself. He groans, running a hand through his hair. "Paulina, just shut up for a minute, okay?" He gestured at Dan. "You remember Danny Fenton . . . he's my boyfriend."

His _what_?


	3. Chapter 2: Valerie

I roll my eyes, hanging up on Paulina's sobs. She kicked me out of the A-List, but she still thinks she can just call me up whenever? No way.

Paulina's call brings up the memories of high school. Being friends with her seems like it was such a long time ago, and it seems even longer with Star. Tucker was kind of fun, but he was a little _too_ into his technology. Sam was . . . an acquaintance, not a friend, maybe a rival.

And then there was Danny Fenton.

I never really had that many friends, and sometimes I wonder why he didn't, either. He was amazingly sweet, nice and caring. One of those friends that, if you had a crisis at two in the morning and woke him up, he'd still help you. That isn't to say he was perfect – he ran late to almost everything, and he never told others his secrets. He was also really klutzy, but it was actually kind of cute. He could have been friends with everyone in the school, and it's always been a mystery to me why he wasn't.

He was a sweet boyfriend, too.

I blush at that, shaking my head to clear it of my thoughts. I'm about to go on patrol with Mrs. Fenton – I can't be distracted by memories of pretty blue eyes!

. . . Danny had the prettiest blue eyes ever . . .

I frown. This wasn't working at all, and if it kept up I'd be useless over the patrol. Scowling at missing my next chance to whoop that stupid Phantom's butt, I called up Mrs. Fenton and took a mental-health day.

Five minutes later, I'm trawling the mall for new shoes to go with my new look. What better way to forget the past than by giving yourself a total makeover? I hope Danny will like the new look!

. . . bad Valerie, reminding yourself! Danny's probably away in Florida getting ready to head for Pluto or something. He's not here to see your new look!

Not that it matters. I broke up with him, not the other way around, so I shouldn't be doing this to myself!

"Oh come on, Dash!"

It's a startlingly familiar voice, especially with the train of thought that has plagued me all day. I turn, and sure enough . . .

Black hair, blue eyes. Slim frame, pale skin, easy smile. _Danny_.

And right behind him is blonde hair, blue eyes, muscular and tan with a wide grin. Dash Baxter? With Danny?

What the hell is going on?

Neither of them notices me, even when I'm blatantly staring. Danny is laughing with his old bully, pointing out various stores or items. The blonde is smiling back, also pointing out things, but seems to be watching my brunet more than anything else (wait, _my_ brunet?). I know Danny knows he's watching him, because he's got this pale-pink blush and he shuffles shyly in that adorable way of his. He ponders something for a moment, and then gives a shy smile and takes Dash's hand. The brunet drags him away, and both leave my line of sight.

I stay put, stunned. Danny was getting along with Dash? When the hell did this happen?

That's when Star calls, and I numbly pick up. "Yeah?"

"Valerie, you won't believe this!"

"You don't know what I've just seen. Try me."

"Okay, well, you know how Paulina's been sobbing all over the place?" Star's voice is shocked, but excited. "It's 'cause she, like, went to go see her ex, Dash!"

". . . Star, why does this matter to me?"

"Because while she was there, he like totally turned her down when she asked him to ask her out!" Why was I friends with Star again?

"Why? Dash adores Paulina."

"AdoreD! Like, past tense! He's totally got a _boyfriend_!"

No way. No, no no no, no. "What? Who?"

"Get this – Danny Fenton!"

. . . oh my god.

Star jammers in my ear, but I'm not listening. I'm staring after where the two – the _couple_ – disappeared, and only one thought is running through my mind.

_I've got to break them up_.


	4. Chapter 3: Sam

"Thank you for meeting me here." Valerie grudgingly tells me as I sit down. She isn't happy about asking to help her with whatever she's doing, and she seems upset. Tucker's already arrived, and he's frowning slightly in the chair next to her.

Like me, he has no idea why he's here.

"Let's just get down to business, Grey." I hold back my sneer. "What did you want?" It's a question, but I say it like a statement.

Valerie's metaphorical feathers ruffle in indignation at my tone, but I'm not sorry. All she can do is explain why she called in a panic a week ago, and we both know it.

She scowls, and drops the information on us like a bomb; "Danny's dating Dash Baxter."

. . . what?

There's no possible way Danny – _my_ Danny! – is dating his old bully. He's too smart for that, and I know it even if the two of us haven't spoken in years. "Yeah, right – I totally believe you." I scoff, turning to peruse the menu.

There's nothing appealing to my tastes – not even their salads are ultra-recyclo-vegetarian - and Valerie interrupts the beginning stages of a plan for a protest.

"Manson, I wouldn't lie about something like that." She sounds angry – angrier than she would be if this was really about a lie.

"Oh really? It's not like you lied to Danny for years about the Red Huntress thing." I shoot back. Even if she's angry, I don't believe her – can't believe her.

"You mean like how he lied to me for even longer about being Phantom?" she shoots back at me. "Goddammit, why would I lie to you about Danny being . . ." She doesn't finish, choking up on the word.

"Gay?" I supply with biting sarcasm. "Bisexual? Yeah, that's right, put a label on him, judge him. I dare you."

"Sounds like you believe me."

"Not in the slightest!"

"What is your problem?"

"My _problem_ is judgmental, blind bigots like _you_ trying to make everyone conform to _their_ idea of what is right or wrong! To people like _you_, individuality is just a word and screw the guys who want to be different!" I hiss, narrowing my eyes in anger.

Valerie always has been able to bring out the worst in me.

Tucker finally joins the conversation, speaking up just as Valerie opens her mouth for her excuse.

"Ladies, please. Can't we just eat like old friends are supposed to?"

"That would imply a past friendship." I huff, crossing my arms and turning aside.

There's silence at the table for a long moment.

Valerie breaks it in a small voice, as if lost. "Danny . . . when he's dating someone, he always blushes before he grabs their hand, doesn't he? He and Dash were at the mall . . ."

She slides a pack of pictures onto the table. "I took those with my suit, later that day."

Tucker slides them out, and barely glances at them before handing the pile to me.

Each picture is like a snapshot of a happy life. Danny gesturing about as he speaks to Dash at a small restaurant. Dash smiling down at a pouting Danny. Danny blushing and dragging a laughing Dash behind him as he walks. Picture after picture, all of them featuring Danny and that blond bastard, every pose different but carrying the same feeling of _togetherness_.

The last one is Danny standing up, hand resting on a table for support as he presses a kiss to Dash's lips.

Unmistakable proof.

". . . why are we here?" I finally speak. I know my tone sounds indifferent, but I am anything but.

"I want to break them up. Danny and _Dash_ . . . this can't go on."

Tucker clears his throat. "And that's my cue to leave."

"Tucker!"

"No, Sam!" he frowns at me. "I . . . I'm not sure this is a good idea either, Danny and Dash. But we _can't_ mess with them!"

Before I can say anything else, he tosses a few bills on the table and storms out. Neither Valerie nor I get up to stop him.

Valerie breaks the silence again. "Are you in?"

"Tell me everything I need to know."

"They have an apartment, but they've just moved in. As far as I know they haven't been dating that long – there's got to be some insecurities."

"Baxter always acted like such a player. We can play off that." My mind is already whirring, and I've got the beginnings of a plan already. "What's Danny working as again? Tucker said something about law?"

"You don't know?" Valerie asks, but quickly supplies the answer at my glare. "Police officer, almost done with training to switch to detective – he's actually been working on the case the news has been covering so much."

"The one with all the robberies. I know it."

She stares at me, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "You have a plan."

I let my smirk show.


	5. Chapter 4: Kwan and Jazz

"It's been a long time, Jazz."

". . . that it has."

I can practically hear the frown, despite the fact that I'm in the kitchen making two mugs of coffee (and one glass of water).

"You don't need to sound like you don't want to see me."

"Really? Why's that?"

"Don't try using your psychoanalysis babble on me. It's not going to work."

A long-suffering sigh echoes in the quiet of the apartment as I mechanically add the necessary two creams and one sugar to each coffee.

"Jazz, come on. Hear me out."

My redheaded girlfriend sighs again, and as I walk into the living room she looks up to meet my eyes. I can see how she's so curious, just like she always is, as I smile and hand her one of the coffee mugs. Underneath, however, I can see the distant upset – if I could, I'd take the lingering pain away.

But, that would mean kicking out our visitor, and I can't do that either.

Manson – because neither of us can call her _Sam_ anymore, not after what she did to Danny's heart – doesn't even glance at me as I set the glass of water down in front of her (Jazz glances pointedly at the coasters, but I only grin back at her before sitting next to her). "Jazz, seriously. This is important, and it's something I'm sure you'd want to hear!"

Jazz's frown deepens, and again she looks at me. The question is in her gaze – should she? Dare she? Again I smile, trying to make my own eyes show that I'll support whatever choice she makes. I settle an arm along the back of the couch behind her back, trying to give her something more tangible than a simple smile.

Maybe, if I keep smiling, Manson's appearance won't hurt her as much.

". . . all right. But I need to get back to the college in an hour for the next class."

Manson seems to relax slightly, and seems to notice my presence for the first time. "Do you really have to be here? Why _are_ you here, anyways?"

Jazz's eyes narrow ever so slightly – I don't think the raven-haired woman even knows they've done so. "He stays."

The comment earns a scoff. "Whatever."

We all trail off into silence for a moment, and it isn't long before she breaks it again. "Danny and Baxter are dating."

An elegant black eyebrow raises over an aquamarine eye. "So?" We've known about Danny and Dash for ages now – they are our best friends (well, for Jazz, obviously one's going to be a brother). I was the one who found them the apartment, and Jazz helped them pick the furniture (after convincing Dash that, no, his Packer's-themed couch was _not_ a good idea and that Danny openly hated the thing).

"Don't you find it . . . wrong?" Manson's definitely surprised, and I just shrug.

Now, her eyes have narrowed significantly, and her posture has tensed against me. Her mind has to be putting things together, and her voice comes out in an angry hiss.

"_Sam_. Don't you _dare_ try to meddle and mess with them."

"You're on their side?" The scowl she was famous for in high school appears on Manson's face as she leans forward.

"There aren't any sides involved, Sam!"

"I should have known not to count on you!" Manson growls at her, and jumps to her feet. "You've always taken Danny's side in everything, no matter how _I_ felt! I mean, you were the one who encouraged us to get together, didn't you?"

Jazz flinches as if struck, and I shoot to my feet.

"That's enough!" I glare Manson down. "That's too far – you're done here."

She opens her mouth to retort, but I interrupt before she can even get started.

"Get out."

For a long moment, she stands still. A few seconds tick by, feeling like minutes, and I'm afraid I might have to use force.

Finally, she turns and leaves, the only thing left behind an empty glass on the table.

As soon as the door clicks closed, Jazz's lower lip is trembling.

"She's right, isn't she? I did push them together . . ."

I don't remember sitting back down, but my arms are around her and holding her tight. "Jazzy, no. No. You remember how they were back in high school – the lovebirds, remember?"

"But I . . ."

"Honey, it would have happened whether you interfered or not."

She seems to contemplate my statement. "Well . . . close friendship has proven to lead to romance in several cases, due to the idea that one would know the other well enough to make what could be a relatively small transition . . ."

"See? I told you."

"But to go from friends to lovers, even from best friends is still such a huge step in more than one aspect . . ."

I can't help it – I have to laugh. She gives me a half-hearted glare; "Sorry, sorry. Jazzy, you may have helped it along just a little – but you're overanalyzing things again. Stuff happens, you know, and like I said before, it would have happened eventually. You said it yourself, friendship can turn into dating."

"You're paraphrasing."

"_Jazz_."

She sighs, and finally smiles. It's weak, but it's a smile. "I love you."

I smile back and press a soft kiss to her lips. "That was random. Love you too."

My Jazz giggles. "Who'd have thought that we'd end up dating? Me, the brilliant psychologist and you, the absent-minded jock . . ."

"Hey!"

"Baby, I know you've gotten much better, but it was still true."

I let loose an exaggerated sigh, and again she giggles as she kisses the tip of my nose.

She gets up and starts gathering her materials for her class, and I watch her with what I know has to be a soft gaze.

Our relationship . . . started out rather unconventionally. Originally I was dating her brother, but by spending more time with him I was spending more time with her. It wasn't long before I realized I'd fallen for the wrong sibling – but to dump Danny to pursue his sister was too cruel. I'd always figured I could deal with it later, or deluded myself into thinking it would resolve on its own.

Instead, I got caught, and all three of us ended up tangled in a long line of lies and half-truths.

To cover her own tail, Paulina lied and claimed that she was dating me as well, and I almost lost both of the Fentons completely. It took ages of appealing to Danny before he'd listen to me, and then even longer for the two of us to convince Jazz to listen as well.

And now . . . I'm so in love with her, I can't imagine living life without her.

The implications of Manson's visit suddenly crashed down on me. Manson . . . was going to try to sabotage Dash and Danny.

Relationships can be so fragile . . .

I tried not to disturb Jazz's puttering as I stood and snuck into our shared bedroom. My underwear drawer was slid open as silently as possible, and I dug out my secret from where I'd balled it up in a pair of old boxers that no longer fit.

She was glancing over her lecture plan when I stole back down the hall and stood in the doorway. For a long moment, I could only stare – oh, God, I love her so much . . .

". . . baby?" Her concerned voice startled me out of my thoughts, and I blinked at her blankly. I'd probably been staring too long again – like I had been since the secret was ready, since I'd started waiting for just the right time.

. . . there's no time like the present.

"Jazz, I love you."

"I love you too. You look a little upset – what's up?"

". . . I've been waiting for just the right time, but Manson made me realize . . . Jazz, I don't want to lose you, ever . . ."

I took a deep breath, playing with my secret . . .

. . . and dropped to one knee.

". . . Kwan? Baby, what are you doing?"

"I know this isn't the best time, or the most romantic way to do this. But, Jazz . . ." I opened my secret's box and took her shaking left hand in my right. "I didn't have enough money for a larger one, so . . ."

I offer her the box with the silver band adorned with a tiny diamond. ". . . can this work for now?"

I sigh happily to myself when I happen to catch a glance of the ring on my left hand for what has to be the millionth time. Three days after the heartfelt, very Kwan-like proposal, I still have a hard time believing I'm an engaged woman!

The knock on the door interrupts my daydreams of floating down the aisle, and I jump. Whoever it is knocks again, sounding more than a little frantic.

Grudgingly, I open the door – it's probably Sam, still trying to get help; she had stopped by again the day after her first visit, while Kwan was out buying groceries. Right now, he was at an interview for another announcing job, and it would be just like Sam to try again and again until she got what she wanted.

"Jazz!" Danny's voice greets me instead, and before I can really register what's happening he's clinging to me in a tight hug.

"Danny?" He's bent slightly to accommodate my shorter height, but his shoulders are shaking. "Danny, what's wrong?"

"I . . . Jazz, I can't believe it, but . . ."

I don't say anything as he trails off, the shaking increasing. All I do is pull him inside, nudging the door closed with a foot as I hug my little brother.

He lets me lead him to the couch, where he all but collapses onto the cushions. Black bangs hide his eyes as he holds his head in his hands – I absently note that he needs a haircut before I sit next to him.

Danny doesn't say anything for a long moment, only letting out rattling breaths. Tenatively, I wrap an arm around his shoulders . . .

. . . and a hysterical quivering mess of a man sobs into my shoulder as I move to hug my baby brother as close as I can.

I rub soothing circles on his back, murmuring gentle reassurances in his ear as he lets his tears flow. I've no clue what's going on – something horrible must have happened, to upset him this much. My curiosity and worry for him is growing at each heart-wrenching gasp – I'd do anything to take this pain away from him.

Neither of us knows how long it takes for him to cry it all out, and even then he won't – _can't_ – let go. For a long moment, we sit in a pregnant silence.

"Dash . . ." Danny all but whimpers, and he clutches me even tighter.

"Danny . . . what happened?"

All he can do is let out a choked mess of gibberish, and I quietly sigh.

He lets go, and I smooth his hair before rising and quickly retrieving a soda from the fridge. I sit back down next to him again, and when I hand him the can he just holds it loosely.

"Little brother . . ." I start, but I don't ask again.

For a long, tense minute, Danny doesn't even acknowledge the unasked query, but finally he speaks.

"Remember . . . the case I've been working on?

"Still no leads?"

His shoulders shuddered, and he took a deep breath before continuing. "We . . . the station got an anonymous tip today, said they thought the next robbery would be at the jewelry store on South Main. I was so stupid . . . I gathered up a few squads and we staked out the place."

"The guy got away anyways? Danny, you'll catch him eventually-"

"The guy never showed," he speaks over me. "It was a false lead. The . . . the real robbery was at the complete opposite side of town."

"One mistake . . ."

". . . the girl who tripped the store's alarm was shot. Sh-she's in . . . Jazz, she's in the ICU. They're not sure if . . ." he doesn't finish, a sob rising in his throat, and his grip tightens on the soda can.

There's nothing I can say to that. No way I can make him feel better, no way I can ease this pain, and I want nothing more than to cry for Danny . . . and for the girl who just tried to do the right thing.

Danny speaks again, voice lowered and quieter in even deeper pain. "I got h-home . . . and Da-" His voice catches on the name, and he swallows his tears before continuing.

It's said in nothing more than a whisper.

"Dash was in the bedroom, lying on the bed – our bed – with Valerie. Kissing her."

What?

No.

"Dash cheated on me. Jazz, he doesn't love me. At least . . . not anymore."


End file.
